All I Wanted
by GlazedAndConfused
Summary: Postseries AU. After the death of Grandma Hina, paired with divorcing Naru, something inside Keitaro snaps. The consequences are worse than anyone expected... [Chapter 2 up]
1. Burying Grandma

**: All I Wanted... :**

by

_- GlazedAndConfused -_

* * *

**DISCLAIMER**

I own neither Love Hina, nor Cracker, nor NGE.

* * *

**WARNING**

This story is rated M for a reason. It will contain graphic language, as well as occasionalethnic slurs and references to violent scenes. If such things offend you, do not read any further. Thank you.

* * *

"..." - denotes speech.  
"(...)" - denotes whispering.  
_Italics_ denote thoughts and Japanese dialogue.

* * *

**_Chapter One_ :** _Burying Grandma

* * *

_

It is never easy for a person to come to terms with the loss of a loved one. This is especially true if the deceased person was a much loved and respected member of someone's family.At the present moment in time, thisapplied to Keitaro, who was standing in a traditional Japanese cemetary, having just come out of his grandmother's funeral service. The former kanrinin of Hinata Sou was struggling to hold in his emotions - something he had managed to do throughout all his years at the all-girls' dormitory - as he tried to accept the fact that a pivotal person in his life had been taken slowly and painfully in her last years by an illness that she eventually succumbed to.

The autumn leaves crunched under the young man's feet as he slowly trudged his way through the sacred place; the dull, overcast skies offering him no solace as they perfectly matched the melancholia that plagued his mind. The fact that he had divorced Naru after a series of difficulties proved that their marriage could never have worked out did nothing to ease his sadness. Paying no attention to the rain that was beginning to fall from the grey skies, he was also unaware of the cover of an umbrella appearing over his head. Looking to the source of the said item, he saw the person who was once the love of his life. Beside him was Naru, in her arms the product of their once intense love for one another - a young girl, no more than four or five years of age.

"Will you be alright?" the auburn-haired woman asked, a look of affection she once held for the _Toudai_ graduate glimmering in her eyes for the briefest of moments.

"You're not going, are you?" Keitaro replied, his face crumpling further. "I was... going to ask you to help me clear out Grandma Hina's things..." He looked down, trying to hide his unshed tears from his young daughter. "...I can't do it on my own. Please?"

An awkward pause came between the two.

"Oh... okay then, Keitaro."

* * *

Time seemed to pass as slow as it ever had, another awkward silence hanging in the air as the two arrived at the oldest Urashima's last home before her passing away. The quaint little house was dark, with the unopened curtains blocking out any artificial light, making the atmosphere slightly more unnerving than either of them would have liked. Keitaro was stripping the bedding of it's sheets and duvet, preparing the mattress to be thrown away, while Naru was sorting through any old clothing that was left behind and placing them in suitcases. As the auburn-haired woman was trying to move to the other side of the room, Keitaro was coming through with the mattress in his hands; both staring into one another's eyes with unknown, unspoken emotions before reluctantly resuming with their tasks. 

Minutes later, the mattress was burning in a bonfire created out in the back garden. The bespectacled young man watched on as the bright, hot orange light danced across the bedding, his eyes giving away traces of emotional emptiness aplenty. His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his ex-wife.

"Keitaro, the taxi's just arrived."

The former _Toudaisei_ slowly responded to Naru's call, finding himself strangely unable to tear his eyes away from the flames.

* * *

"What will you do with them all?" Keitaro asked, having just finished placing the last of the suitcases of old clothes into the back of the taxi. 

"I'll give them to a charity shop." Naru smiled. As she looked into her divorcé's tender face, she couldn't help but lean in, mesmerised by his brown orbs. Sharing one last kiss - one last moment of mutual love - the two reluctantly tore themselves away from their loving embrace, as the young woman climbed into the back of the taxi.

Keitaro then crouched down, hefting his young daughter up from under her arms, looking into her eyes as he kissed her on the cheek and wrapped his arms around her. "You be good for your mother now, okay Akemi-_chan_?"

"Okay _otousan_!" Akemi enthusiastically replied, gaining a thin smile from her father.

"Bye, my darling."

"Bye!"

Keitaro watched on as Akemi climbed alongside her mother into the back of the taxi, the young girl waving at him through the window as the taxi pulled away and drove off into the distance.

"I'll see you soon."

For another week or two, this would be the last time he would see either of them.

* * *

"_Hello?_" 

"Ritsuko, it's me."

"_Oh, it's you... where are you anyway?_"

"Calling from a phone box. Just went for a quick walk a while ag --" The woman's explanation was cut off by the loud chinking of beer glasses, followed by the raucous laughter of a group of men sat in the corner.

"_...you're in the bar, aren't you Misato?_"

"Well, just for a couple of drinks."

Pause.

"Oh, Ritsu... not the pregnant pause again, please - you know how much I hate that!"

"_How long will you be?_"

"I'll be home once I've finished this drink."

"_You mean once you've gotten completely plastered._"

"Would I ever come home pissed out of my head and make a scene?"

A sigh. "_Knowing you, yes._"

"Okay, good point... anyway, I won't be long."

Another sigh. Ritsuko knew what her violet-haired friend's definition of 'not long' was... coming home completely intoxicated, singing completely out of tune in the early hours of the morning, and making a fool of herself. "_Right, well, I guess I'll see you later, then. Bye._"

"Yeah, bye!"

And thus began another night of careless drinking for a certain Misato Katsuragi.

* * *

As one day ended, another one began. For Keitaro, every day followed the same monotonous routine, as he clocked in for another day of work as a lecturer on archaeology at _Toudai_. When the bell signifying the end of lessons for lunch break went off, he could not pack up his notes and belongings and get out of the classroom quick enough to go to the canteen. 

"Right... two across; 'accept as true; take to be true'... seven letters... third letter is 'L'," spoke one of the older lecturers, seemingly filling out a crossword in the local paper.

"'Believe'," offered the younger lecturer, possibly his protegé, sitting next to him.

"...oh yeah. How d'you spell it?"

"B-E-L-E-I-V-E."

"B-E-L-I-E-V-E," Keitaro corrected dryly. "You got the second E and the I the wrong way around."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

A brief nod was exchanged between the two fellow lecturers on the table behind him, as well as a 'never mind', before moving onto the next part of the crossword. "Right... twelve down; 'vicious dog', ten letters..."

"Hmm..."

Keitaro stood up and walked over to the table, looking at the crossword in front of him. "I told you. It's I before the E, not the other way around."

"It doesn't make any difference, Keitaro," remarked the younger of the two lecturers.

"It's wrong, I'm telling you now..."

"It doesn't affect anything."

Keitaro turned his gaze to the older of the two, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. "You're taking his word as opposed to mine; why's that?"

"Because it makes no difference. That's wh --"

"Because he has a Doctorate and I only have a Bachelor's Degree... that's why, isn't it?"

"Oh, piss off..."

Sensing that the argument had effectively ended there and then, the young man decided to no longer push the issue. As he walked back to the classroom and started his next lecturing session, however, one could tell by looking into his eyes that something was amiss... the flames of motivation and determination that once could be found in his chocolate brown orbs were now extinguished and replaced with a distant gaze. This did not go unnoticed, though.

"Could I talk to you outside please?" one of the senior members of staff asked.

"Sure." Keitaro walked through the door and into the hall.

The senior man sighed. "Urashima-_san_... I couldn't help but notice that it seems like your mind is not on your lecturing. You seem a little... I don't know... distant. Is something wrong?"

The Urashima man's expression became downcast. "I buried my grandmother yesterday."

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that."

Once the two walked back in, the lecture continued with nothing else said of the matter.

* * *

"Hey, Katsuragi... do you come here often?" 

Misato cringed. This was the last voice she wanted to hear, especially since she was right in the middle of a good mood. "What do you want, Ryoji?" She turned and asked, dryly.

The tall, unshaven man with the ponytail feigned offence. "Why, is that a way to talk to somebody who has come to offer you some company?"

"Kaji."

"Hmm?"

"Do me a favour, and get bent. I'd rather not have your company if it means staying in this good mood," the violet-haired woman replied, her voice lacking any semblance of anger or malice towards her former boyfriend; strangely enough, she sounded almost merry and carefree.

"Ahh, I love it when you talk to me like that," Kaji replied, pulling up a stool and sitting next to Misato. "Brings back memories of college. So, fancy a refill?"

"Well, since you're here, you may as well make yourself useful... yeah, I'll have another."

Kaji smirked. "Two beers, please."

* * *

Keitaro was finding it hard to keep his eyes open throughout the bus journey back home, as tiredness began to take hold. He was grateful that the day was finally over; it had possibly been one of the longest days ever since he became a part-time lecturer at the university where he made a name for himself with his acumen for archaeology. Lethargically standing up from his seat, the former _kanrinin_ got off the bus with slow, sluggish movements and made his way down the street to one of the local shops to buy a couple of essentials. 

"Um... this newspaper, and a packet of those tea leaves."

"430 Yen, please," replied the shopkeeper, a man of Chinese origin who appeared to bein his 50s.

Keitaro searched through his pockets, only to find he was 10 Yen short. "Sorry, I only have 420 Yen... I'll give you the remaining 10."

"Sorry, can't allow that."

"I'll drop it off tomorrow, on my way to work."

"Sorry."

The young man paused. "These two only come to 415 Yen down the road..."

"Go down the road, then."

"He's closed," Keitaro spoke, through gritted teeth.

"Exactly!" the shopkeeper smirked.

Keitaro glared; all this fuss, over a mere 10 Yen. "I'll be back with your 10 Yen... right?" He left the shop, slamming the door behind him as he stalked down the road, his eyebrows knitted together being the only sign of any anger.

Minutes after he got home, the sound of hair clippers rang through the empty house; strand after strand of his brown hair slowly falling to the floor.

* * *

"How much?" a hungover Misato Katsuragi enquired as the cab dropped her off outside the flat she shared with Ritsuko. 

"1500 Yen, please," spoke the driver dryly."

"1500 Yen?" The violet-haired woman briefly forgot just how much her head felt like it had a thousand pneumatic drills going off inside it - and immediately regretted it. "Ugh... so what did you do, stick the meter on fast forward?" She sarcastically commented after forking out the fee and handing it over.

Misato never was an early morning person. Especially when she was hungover after a good night's boozing session. Especially when she knew she'd have to face her flatmate who would lecture her about it the very next morning; the very thought of which made the violet-haired woman cringe.

_Oh well_, she thought as she reached the door, _best brace myself for the inevitable..._

Closing the door behind her, she noticed Ritsuko sitting in the kitchen, calmly sipping at a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper, a cigarette lying in the ashtray beside her.

"Sorry I'm late..." Misato apologised, rubbing at her eyes.

"It's okay," her friend calmly replied, her eyes not leaving the paper. "Have a good night out?"

Misato sighed, disbelieving of Ritsuko's calm demeanour considering the time she had chosen to waltz in. "This isn't going to script, Ritsu... you're supposed to give me an absolute chewing out! Not just sit there calmly while I walk in at... at..." She looked at the clock on the wall. "...nearly quarter-past eight in the morning!"

The bottle blonde shrugged. "I suppose I've gotten used to it by now; it's not as if it's nothing new."

Misato ignored the subtle dig and took a seat next to her best friend. "Any coffee left? I could do with some to help get shot of this damn hangover..."

Ritsuko smirked, her cigarette still in her mouth. "Nope, I've used the last of it - you'll have to go down to the shop and get some yourself."

"...damn."

* * *

"And thus, we meet again. Remember me, eh?" Keitaro called, a smile on his face that barely even met his eyes. "Do you remember me, you robbing _Shina_ bastard?" Having just walked back into the shop and closing the door behind him, there was a significant change to his appearance. Gone were the white professor's jacket and the black trousers he was wearing earlier; also gone were his glasses. These were now replaced by a camouflaged combat jacket, white t-shirt, blue denim trousers and what appeared to be a pair of steel-toed boots. His hair was cut to the extent that he looked like a skinhead. In short, he was barely even recognisable; a far cry from his modest attire. 

The shopkeeper looked perplexed. "No."

Keitaro walked up to the counter, and threw the change he owed onto the counter. "Here's your 10 Yen... so, do you remember me now?"

"Yes..." the elder Chinese man nodded. "yes I do."

The former _kanrinin_ smirked, despite the anger welling up within him. "Treat people like shit... and they will start acting like shit. You know what I mean? Do you, you robbing _Shina_ bastard?"

"Please don't call me _Shina_ --"

"I'm a Socialist, me... trade unionist and all that... voted the Social Democratic Party all my life... hell, I've even marched at rallys for the likes of you! But you just see me in my clothes... you hear the voice and you assume things. You assume the right to treat the likes of me like a pile of shit you've just scraped off the bottom of your shoe. Well okay then, you thieving _Shina_... you _treated_ me like scum, so I'm _acting_ like scum!"

"Don't call me Shi --"

"_NOW I'M ACTING LIKE SCUM_!"

"Criticise what I do, not what I am!"

Keitaro scowled, his eyebrow twitching with every word he spoke. "I'll call you what I fucking well want! I've not come here to listen to you, pal! I _earned_ my poverty, y'know what I mean?"

"If you think I'm robbing you, then fair enough - criticise me for that - but don't call me _Shina_."

"I work hard for my pay packet... and you think you can rip me off the way you just did? NO! You're a robbing _Shina_ bastard - no more, no less!"

The shopkeeper, having heard enough, walked to the front of the counter so he was face to face with Keitaro. "Get out of my shop now!"

The young Urashima man merely laughed in his face. "I call you a robbing bastard, what happens? You get an Award to Industry because this country is full of robbing bastards... but I call you a robbing _Shina_ bastard... that's _really_ going to hurt, isn't it?" Keitaro grinned, toothily. "That's some weapon I have; that's the _only_ weapon I have..." He paused. "...unless, of course, you count..." he pulled his jacket open and pulled out a bayonet that was concealed within the deep inside pocket. "...this one."

The shopkeeper's eyes widened in horror, as he realised he had nowhere to go, being more or less pinned against the counter by the younger man.

"You see this? Do you see it?" Keitaro growled, his teeth gritted and his face contorted into a visage of sheer anger, the fire in his eyes ablaze once again. Within a second, he had plunged the long, sharp blade into the Chinese man's stomach. The sickening piercing sound of sharp steel meeting fabric and skin rang through the air as the elder person slowly began to slide down the counter, his descent only halted by the blade that was still buried to the hilt inside him, eating away at skin and sinew. "Do you get the point?" the younger of the two continued, his scowl not fading away for a second as he . "Do you get... the _point_?" As the Chinese man fell to the floor, Keitaro sharply withdrew the now crimson-stained blade, almost snagging it inside his body.

Then there was stillness; an eerie silence looming in the air that remained unbroken. All time appeared to stop the moment the older man landed on the floor, a dark red stain expanding across his shirt a reminder of what the former _kanrinin_ had just done. Keitaro looked down at the body; the sound of the shopkeeper's dying, throaty gurgles and ragged breathing reverberating through his eardrums as his eyes drank in the scene that was before him. Even through the torn fabric from where the blade entered, he wouldn't have needed to be a forensic expert to tell that it wasn't a clean stabbing - he could almost feel the blade making it's way further up the older man's body as he fell.

He knew that the man had died just before he hit the ground.

It was only on his way back home from the scene when the realisation of what he had just done struck him like a gunshot to the head...

* * *

**: END CHAPTER ONE :

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**

**: AUTHOR'S NOTES :**

My first fic of 2006. Would have been sooner than this but... college put paid to that idea.

Right, well. Nothing much to say really... but you may have noticed the word "_Shina_" in this fic; this is a Japanese racial slur aimed towards the Chinese, which tends to be extremely offensive. So if there is anybody of Chinese origin or heritage reading this fic, I apologise whole-heartedlyfor any offence. Also, this fic - if you hadn't read the disclaimer - is a sort-of crossover with NGE and the British TV show, _Cracker_. It only includes slight elements of the former, since I've already integrated Misato, Kaji and Ritsuko; those three will be integral characters in this fic, so they weren't just one-off appearances merely done for filler purposes.


	2. Making The Headlines

**: All I Wanted... :**

by

_- GlazedAndConfused -_

* * *

"..." - denotes speech.  
"(...)" - denotes whispering.  
_Italics_ denote thoughts and Japanese dialogue.

* * *

**_Chapter Two_ :** _Making The Headlines

* * *

_

The walk back home, although no less than two or three minutes away, felt like it took a lifetime for Keitaro, who was struggling to acknowledge the fact that he had just killed somebody without any provocation. The Urashima man's face was frozen in an expression of horror, as the chain of events that led to his stabbing of the Chinese shopkeeper kept replaying in his head, as if to rub his actions in his face.

_I did not just do that..._ his thoughts went, in a perpetual mantra. _I did not just do that... I did not just kill the shopkeeper with a bayonet..._

No matter how much he tried convincing himself, the images of the old man's body slumping to the floor lifelessly - his shirt stained in blood pouring from the entry wound - would not leave his head. It was as if he was staring at a painting that was dangled in front of him as he walked back home. Pulling out the keys from his trousers, it took him a few moments to gather up enough sense to actually open the door. Stumbling through the front door, kicking it closed behind him, he walked over to the draw in the living room, and pulled it open, removing an object that looked like a matchstick holder.

A box of matches soon followed, as he slowly opened the box and took a match out. Striking the tip of the match against the brown, scarcely-used sandpaper, Keitaro stared in slight fascination at the flame as it slowly burnt, the air around him fueling the tiny ember as it ate away at the wood. Placing the match in a spare slot on the brass holder, he stared at the flame a few seconds longer before blowing it out, smirking as he stared at the now-black remnants of the match; any previous traces of shock and anxiety now gone.

_One down, more to go._

* * *

Within an hour of the stabbing, the area surrounding the shop was closed off by the police. Local residents crowded and scrambled around the line they were to stay behind, all trying to get a good view of the police investigations. A blue Renault Alpine pulled up outside police lines, as Misato and an older, grey-haired man both got out. Slowly, both made their way over to the front door of the shop where the killing took place. A young local resident was being questioned by an unshaven, ponytailed man who the violet-haired woman knew was Kaji; a pen and notebook in his hand.

"Daisuke-_san_, this is Fuyutsuki Kouzo and Katsuragi Misato," Kaji spoke, turning to face the two who had just arrived. "He was the one who found the body, and he said he bumped into a skinhead on the way down here."

"Did he say anything to you?" Fuyutsuki asked.

"He was dead." Daisuke replied.

The elder man sighed. "...no, I mean the skinhead."

"Oh, sorry. No, he didn't."

"Would you recognise him if you saw him again?" Misato asked.

Daisuke shrugged. "Hey, he was a skinhead... they all look alike."

"Have you mentioned this to anybody else?"

"No, just the police."

"Well, we'd rather you kept it that way, if that's okay?"

"Sure, no problem."

As Kaji, Misato and Fuyutsuki walked into the shop, the dimmed surroundings were briefly lit up in their entirety by the strobing flash of a camera, giving everyone in there a better view of the scene in front of them. The shop was relatively untouched, the newspaper and the tea leaves still in their resting place on the counter, alongside the 10 Yen. Misato had to stop herself from grimacing as the camera flashed once again, trying to force herself to focus on anything other than the body that lay in front of her.

"Leave it, Shigeru," Fuyutsuki spoke to one of the younger officers at the scene, who had long black hair, attempting to swat the flies that were flying around the room.

"The flies won't stay away from the body, though," the man named Shigeru replied, taking another swing with the rolled-up newspaper in his hand.

"Don't worry about that, just go out there and see to the crowd... they're encroaching."

Shigeru dropped the newspaper. "I'm alright here, though."

Fuyutsuki smirked. "I know you are, but just see to the crowd, okay?"

As Shigeru walked out of the front door, another of the officers walked into the room, approaching Fuyutsuki and Misato. He had short black hair, and fairly thick-framed glasses. "Fuyutsuki-san."

"Hyuuga-_san_." Fuyutsuki replied, not taking his eyes off the body. "Where's the family?"

"Upstairs. I haven't spoken to them yet, though, I was, well... waiting..."

Both men turned to face Misato, who sighed. "You mean, you want me to do the talking?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Hyuuga said, letting loose a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

Misato sighed again as she walked around the back of the counter and through the door that led upstairs. Fuyutsuki walked closer to the body and crouched beside it, looking over his shoulder at one of the forensic detectives taking photos of the scene and body. "Have you gotten the tea leaves and newspaper on film?"

"Yes."

Fuyutsuki walked behind the counter, examining the 10 Yen that had fallen to the floor, then checking the counters to see if any money had been taken. "Well, it's definitely not a robbery... no money has been taken." He looked up to face Kaji, Hyuuga and Shigeru, who had just walked back in. "Nor is there anything to indicate any racial motives, nothing whatsoever... that's our line, okay?"

* * *

The silence in the family living room above the shop was almost unbearable for Misato. The neutral look on the violet-haired woman's face completely betrayed the uneasiness she was feeling deep inside her. She licked her lips, trying to moisten them as she thought of a question to ask.

"Can you think of anyone who would want to kill your father?" she asked the eldest of the deceased man's daughters.

The young woman turned to face Misato with a look of grief and anger on her face, her eyes revealing that she was trying her best to hold back her unshed tears. "Not just one, but several _million_ people..." Her eyes narrowed. "...and _all_ of them are Japanese."

Misato had no answer for that.

* * *

Not unlike Misato, Ritsuko was not a morning person. So when she was woken up by the sound of a hacksaw cutting through copper piping emanating from the flat next door, it came as no surprise that she was feeling, for lack of a better word, very annoyed. With her beauty sleep ever so rudely interrupted, she walked through to the living room and turned on the TV, picking up her cigarettes and lighter as she did so. It was the sound of Fuyutsuki's voice coming from the TV that attracted her attention.

"_...in the past, this area has seen a great deal of tension between different ethnic minorities and backgrounds. It is for this reason that I want to make it clear that there is no evidence of any racist intentions behind this killing; none at all. We are understandably anxious to speak to everybody who may have visited Zhiyi-san's shop this morning. Whether or not you saw anything, or whether or not you think that you might be of any help at all to us, it is vital that you step forwards so we can eliminate you from our enquries..._"

She never did light that cigarette.

* * *

The loud cacophonyof sound that was the lyrics of racialsupremacy and separatism resounded through the local concert hall, as a large number of right-wing extremist skinheads gathered together in the name of music and extreme nationalist politics. The hall was dimmed and the curtains closed, but there was still enough light for one to see the large number of far-right banners and memorabilia that were placed there. Banners about fascism adorned the walls, as well as portraits of the said ideology's leaders and politicians from the past and anti left-wing rhetoric. The skinheads were all raptured by the music, starting a movement akin to a punk mosh pit, implementing fascist salutes at the same time.

Their idea of fun was soon ruined by the door downstairs being smashed off it's hinges, followed by the chorus of heavy footsteps making their way up the stairs to break up the gathering. Kaji, who was at the front of this line of police officers, made his way onto the stage as Misato approached the man she assumed to be the head of the skinhead group, trying to ask him to turn the music down - to no avail.

Seeing this, Kaji unplugged the speakers and turned them off. "Okay, all of you sit down and shut up!" He yelled down the microphone, able to get the attention of the crowd who were slowly becoming agitated. "We have a warrant to search this premises, and the longer you lot take to shut up, the longer we'll be!" This was met with a chorus of catcalling and jeering, coupled with more fascist salutes in unison.

Within minutes, a number of the skinhead extremists were taken out of the building after making racist comments towards the non-Japanese police officers...

* * *

"Right," Fuyutsuki spoke, "we now have the names and addresses of sixty far-right extremist party members. We'll be checking them all out for any previous offences."

Misato cut in. "Forty-five of them have previous; thirty-two of them violent."

"So, those thirty-two are at the top of our list. Make sure that you are all plain-clothed. We don't adhere to our usual uniform standards, because the skinheads will notice something. Unracial motive is still our official line. We start this early tomorrow morning." During this speech, Kaji's eyes had wandered around the room, settling on Misato's cleavage, the fact of which was unknown to the violet-haired woman.

Unfortunately for him, he was caught. "Kaji, am I boring you?" Fuyutsuki asked.

"Sorry?"

"Am I boring you?"

The pony-tailed man shook his head. "No, sir."

"Then listen." The grey-haired man unfolded the newspaper in his hand. His eyebrows furrowed in anger as he noticed the headline of the top story.

"**_MINDLESS RACIST MURDER: SKINHEAD SOUGHT_**"

"Misato, come with me!"

The violet-haired woman sighed; this was going to be a long day.

* * *

"A Chinese shopkeeper is murdered in a racially-sensitive area, and you come out and print a story like this!" Fuyutsuki fumed at the woman who wrote the story. This was all he needed on top of having to lead the case, without having a headline that could easily provoke the boiling over of feelings between the ethnic minorities in the town.

"It's the truth, isn't it?" the young woman replied. Her hair was a sandy shade of blonde, and her eyes closed in the same manner of a fox.

"So that makes it all okay to write this crap, does it?"

"Yes."

"No, it doesn't. Who gave you this information?"

The young woman shrugged, her eyes not leaving the computer monitor as she continued to type. "I can't tell you."

Fuyutsuki snorted. "Don't hide behind journalistic integrity, because you haven't _got_ any. Now tell me who gave you this information."

The fox-eyed journalist merely turned to face the grey-haired man, a look of passiveness on her face. "I've already told you once, I can't tell you."

"Was it one of my officers?"

No reply.

"It wasn't the man who found the body, because we've already spoken to him."

"No."

"So who was it then?"

Again, no reply.

"Look, I can have you arrested for witholding such information. Now was it one of my officers, or not?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

The woman smirked. "I'm not telling you."

* * *

Asking each officer individually proved to be harder than Fuyutsuki thought, judging by the reaction that Kaji had given him for asking it. The normally calm and unshaven man was fuming for the first time in a long while, not liking the fact that the older man was pointing the finger at him for something he hadn't done.

"Kaji, did you give the woman that information or not?" Fuyutsuki asked, running a hand through his hair.

"What does it show, asking me a question like that?" Kaji yelled, whirling on the older man.

"I have no time for this... did you tell that woman or not?"

Kaji stood in front of Fuyutsuki so he was more or less face to face with his superior. "That shows you have no faith in me at all! God, five years of service and this is how you repay me?"

"Well somebody told her, but was it you?"

"NO!"

"Thank you! That's all I wanted to know!"

"The fact of the matter is that you had the nerve to accuse me of it!"

Fuyutsuki sighed. "It's a process of elimination Kaji, and you're eliminated... now send Hyuuga in."

"How do you think this makes me feel?" the ponytailed man asked.

"I get the picture... you feel betrayed, fine; understandable, noted. Now send Hyuuga in."

"After five years of service, you'd think I'd have a little more trust put in m --"

"_SEND HYUUGA IN!_"

Holding his hands up in resignation and defeat as he walked out of the room, Kaji made his way over to his desk and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag. After the nicotine had calmed his nerves somewhat, he looked towards the bespectacled, younger man and sighed. "The boss wants to see you."

Hyuuga shuddered; this wasn't going to be good.

* * *

"Was this down to you?"

Hyuuga shuffled on his feet, the young subordinate focusing on anything other than the face of his boss. "Yes sir... it was me."

Fuyutsuki slammed the newspaper down onto the desk, his face adopting an even more angered expression than before as he took a few deep breaths to stop himself from ranting again. "Why?"

"...I don't know." Hyuuga honestly replied.

"Did she pay you? Because if you took money for this, your career is finished."

"No!"

"Well, she's quite a fine specimen of femininity, isn't she?"

"It wasn't that either..."

Fuyutsuki's eyes narrowed, his patience dropping by the second. "...well, what was it then?"

"Well, you sent me out of the shop, and..." He paused, taking a breath as he considered where to carry on. "...I don't know. I guess I just wanted to prove that I was involved in this, y'know?"

"Ah... the whole 'knowledge of power' theory... show people that you're in the know, and then gain yourself a little bit of respect. Am I right?"

"Yes."

The older man shookg his head. "No. That woman just thinks you're nothing more than a clown."

"I know."

An uncomfortable pause passed between the two.

"What will you do?"

"...nothing. Now get out before I change my mind."

* * *

Blissfully taking in all of the attention given to his actions, Keitaro smirked as he sat in his chair, reading through the main headlines. The Urashima man would never have thought that he would have gained such popularity - or, in this case, notoriety - for a single thing he did; after all, the things he had done during his tenure as Hinata Sou's kanrinin did not seem to go noticed. And what was his reward for the good things he did? Being on the receiving end of Naru and Motoko's repressed anger for events construed as perverted. The thought of this made him briefly scowl, but it didn't matter... it was only a matter of time before they became his next victims; a matter of time before he became what he wanted to be. One thought ran throughout his mind as he continued to read.

_All I wanted was to be noticed and congratulated. All I wanted... was to be somebody._

His eyes widened slightly as he saw the name of the person who had written the article in the first place.

Konno Mitsune.

* * *

**: _END CHAPTER TWO _:

* * *

**

**: AUTHOR'S NOTES :**

Nothing to say this time around. Except this is definitely a crossover with NGE if you hadn't noticed by now... hence the inclusions of more characters from the anime in this chapter.


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